


Unstable

by mysleepyhead



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anger, First Kiss, First Time, Happy Ending, Jealousy, Little fluff at the end, M/M, Rimming, Sexual Tension, Smut, Table Sex, Table breaks, porn with little plot, toplock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-15 08:28:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8049334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysleepyhead/pseuds/mysleepyhead
Summary: It starts with the table, and ends at the table.





	1. The table

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first try at writing Fanfiction. It is not checked by any beta. So there are gonna be lots of errors. Please ignore them if you can. Pretty please.

“Smash!”

Followed by a “boom!”

Followed by a “Ow!”

John looked up alarmingly from the laptop screen and spun his head towards the kitchen so fast that his neck made a click sound. He found Sherlock standing in front of the kitchen table looking dumb faced, with his thumb in his mouth, and a heap of smoke rising from the bundle of glass apparatus and whatnot in front of him.

“What the hell was that?”

“That was Lassaigne’s test gone wrong.”

“What?”

“ I didn’t fuse the Sodium properly I think, and Sodium reacts violently with water, and it caught fire and the glass splintered and I think I cut my finger, and also the sample is ruined and I can’t breathe, I’ve got smoke inhaled.” Sherlock said in a grimacing voice, almost pouty.

“Ok, that’s it. I am calling it. Sherlock Holmes, I am giving you five days, no, two days for cleaning the toxic shits from the flat, the thumbs from the fridge, the fungus cultures from under the sink, and for god’s sake the kitchen table. That’s a kitchen table. Not your fucking _experiment_ desk!” John huffed in an angry tone.

Sherlock stopped sucking at his thumb and looked at John in a genuine surprise, “What’s with the kitchen table? We don’t even cook here. You are not using it. So what’s wrong with me utilizing it?”

John, now clearly irritated, puts his laptop aside and stands from the sofa, turning to face Sherlock properly, “You are not a twelve year old Sherlock, and you are a scientist yourself. Do I have to clarify to you the dangers of living in a toxic dump? You need a laminated chart or something?”

“Our flat is not a toxic dump!” Sherlock sounds almost offended.

“Yes! It is!” John was almost yelling now. “I have ignored this shit for a very long time, in spite of me being a doctor and knowing the possible hazards that can happen from your experiments. But I am being really serious now. Clean the fridge, clean sink and the damn table.”

“Oh, are you gonna cook here now?!” Sherlock said in an irritated tone, mixed with amusement and what John recognized, also a little bit of challenge.

John hates this, Sherlock’s stubbornness. Knowing what he is doing is wrong but not acknowledging it. Sherlock hates losing, even if it is just a matter of cleaning a table or something. John loves this man for what he is, that excellent brain of his, his radiating presence, the loving side (which he shows very rarely) and also how he makes John’s heart warm by merely existing. But John is hot headed. And has a minimal tolerance for stubbornness.

And that tone, made him hot with anger.

“Doesn’t matter what I do on the table, I may sleep on the sodding table for all I care!” John shouted. His face was almost a shade of scarlet. He knew he shouldn’t shout, but he couldn’t help it. Now-a-days he gets angered easily; part of that credit goes to Sherlock’s actions. And part of that maybe due to frustration of some kind, John didn’t know. He couldn’t care less. He blamed Sherlock primarily. He does blame Sherlock a lot now-a-days.

“You are clearly overreacting John”, Sherlock said in a nonchalant voice, “We have this arrangement from the beginning and now you are suddenly getting concerned. What’s eating you recently John? “

“Nothing is eating me, you git.” John was almost purple with rage.

“You think I don’t notice, do you? You broke a wine glass yesterday, wrong phrasing, you smashed it. With your hand. Although you told me you dropped it.”

“How did  ...” John started to ask between his teeth.

“Doesn’t matter”, Sherlock cut him off mid-sentence and tilted his head, that gesture made his features sharper, a little cruel maybe. John led out a sharp breath. Something tingling in the pit of his stomach. Some forgotten sensation making its way to the surface. He was still angry, but there was something getting mixed with anger. John knew what it was. He just didn’t dare to admit.

“I know from evidences that something is bothering you, I can’t pinpoint the reason, but I have a wide range of ideas.” Sherlock sounded like he is challenging again, “Should I start deducing?” now his voice sounded cold.

John started to panic, did he know something, that man knew everything, down to John’s masturbation habits. Did he know what John is thinking right now? How turned on John is getting just from this argument? John took an almost audible gulp. And in a feeble attempt of protecting his thoughts, Gritted between his teeth, “You Mr. know-it-all, the messiah of deduction, don’t you fucking dare to deduce me!”

Sherlock snorted, “Like I care.”

John sank a little inside. That’s it, he didn’t care. That’s why John is never going to dare to deal with the emotions killing him from within. He is smitten over his sociopath flatmate, who is so good at deducing people, maybe he already deduced John’s desires, and he didn’t care. John inhaled a breath, decided to ignore the matter, blinked a few times and asked,” So, you are not gonna clean all these?” gestures vaguely around the kitchen.

“I will think about it.”, Sherlock replied through his teeth.

John started to say something again, but Sherlock’s mobile ringtone cut him off. Sherlock turned his face away from John to answer his phone,” Yes, Lestrade?” John kept his ear open and turned around to retrieve his laptop. He heard Sherlock cut the call and turned to see him getting rid of his dressing gown. One of the top buttons of Sherlock’s shirt was open, revealing the porcelain pale skin underneath. John was still furious, but couldn’t help taking an eyeful. Then cleared is threat and asked, “What is it?”

“What is what?” Sherlock asked nonchalantly.

“Lestrade? the phone call?” John’s pursed his lips.

“Oh, you want to come?”Sherlock asked in a mock surprised tone, “A body found in the dumpster in an alley, might be hazardous.”

“Don’t mock me.” John stated in a flat tone.

“Apologies!” Sherlock replied in a flat tone same as John.

Sherlock walked towards the door and grabbed his coat from the hook, swirling it over him in his usual grace and looked over his shoulder, eyebrows raised.

“Yes, I am coming, go ahead.” John said standing in the middle of the room. Sherlock made the tiniest nod and John saw him disappearing in the staircase. He stood for some seconds in the room, inhaling the faint aroma coming from downstairs of Mrs. Hudson baking, looking at the disturbed dust illuminated from the afternoon light where Sherlock stood mere seconds ago. And thinking about how pathetically he is in love with Sherlock.

His thought train came to a hitch due to Sherlock shouting his name from the street in an irritated tone. John gathered himself, grabbed his coat and went down the stairs to find his flatmate almost glaring at his direction, already hailing a cab. A shiver ran down John’s spine, he wished that was due to the chilly London air, but he was certain it wasn’t. He gave Sherlock the faintest apologetic smile and walked towards the cab.

 

 

\----------------------------------------------------

  

 

The cab ride went silent, with Sherlock fiddling with his phone in his left hand and looking outside as if enjoying the view, but John knew he wasn’t seeing anything. His brows were furrowed and his jaw was stern. Sherlock was thinking, and John dared not to ask. He looked outside the window; at least someone should enjoy the view.

The cab ride ended in an alley, it was already getting a bit dark outside. The police and curious bystanders at one spot, they could hear Lestrade shouting to keep people off the spot. John followed behind Sherlock. Sally was by the police tapes and lifted it for them with a little hint of crooked smile. John used to feel uncomfortable once at that, now he doesn’t.

Sherlock was already shoulder to shoulder with Lestrade, looking at the corpse, picking up the details. John walked towards the corpse slowly. He saw a young sergeant, in his thirties standing near the corpse. He saw Sherlock walk towards him. And the sergeant’s eyes lit up like Christmas light. Another fan of the detective, he thought to himself. As he drew near his breath hitched a little. Sherlock was standing too near the sergeant, almost in his personal space, speaking in his goddamn low and sultry voice, “The Di said it was you who first gave the idea that the wounds , although in odd places are self-inflicted, rather than done by another person, am i right?”, “Ye..yes.” the sergeant was stuttering, and in the blinding lights of the police car john could see a flush creeping up the sergeant’s neck.”Hmm, good job, detective sergeant”, Sherlock replied almost in a hum, and John saw the sergeant take a big gulp, smitten by Sherlock’s shameless flirting. And maybe John saw it wrong or something, but he could bet he saw Sherlock’s eyes flicker towards his direction for a mere second, as if judging his reaction. Then he moved from the sergeant towards Lestrade, as if nothing happened.

John felt this growing erection in him. Is Sherlock trying to make John jealous or something? That asshole must know how he feels towards Sherlock, he bloody knew everything. Is he testing him? Mocking him? Because if his intention is making John jealous, he is succeeding. John’s head started to spin a little, as blood rushed through his veins at his throbbing cock. Jealousy made him horny. Did Sherlock deduce that too?

John watched Sherlock glancing him from under his lashes the entirety of their presence of the crime scene. That made nothing to help with john’s state of mind. He grew only harder. The moment Sherlock was getting near the sergeant, who was all moon struck and awe towards Sherlock, John’ felt his stomach turn into a knot, and he became harder.

The case was nothing but self inflicted injuries and a wrong dose of drugs, self administered. The places of injury actually confused everyone at first, now it was confirmed. They are gonna run a tox screen for the drugs. Molly could deal with that and keep Sherlock informed.

“Let’s go home John.” Sherlock said standing beside John, putting on his gloves and already raising his hand for a taxi. John struggled to keep his pace as normal as possible, despite his aching hardness, already killing him.  He sat as far as possible from Sherlock in the cab, trying to keep it seem normal. Sherlock didn’t seem to notice, already typing frantically in his phone, Hairs falling in his forehead. John took a big gulp. He is getting horny by merely looking at Sherlock. He thought about how shamelessly he flirted with the sergeant, and in a horror realized he has started to stain in his pants, pre-cum already letting its way out. Could Sherlock smell him? He smells everything. Can e tell that John is achingly hard and staining his pants just because John is jealous that Sherlock flirted with someone else? John suppressed a moan. This isn’t helping at all. He needs to divert his mind.

Fortunately the cab ride ended, and John struggled to hide his erection and his stained pants as far as possible without being too obvious. He went ahead of Sherlock. Dropped the house keys on the table, saw Sherlock coming through the door in his usual pace. John tried to act nonchalant, still in his coat, and declared, “I am not much hungry myself. I am gonna go to my room and sleep. I didn’t get much sleep last night with the early shift, there is leftover on the fridge.” He turned to see Sherlock hanging is coat in the hook and then facing him. “Okay.” He said and turned towards the kitchen. “Don’t you have a early shift tomorrow also?” Sherlock asked from the kitchen. “Yeah I do”, John replied going up the stairs.

He went to his room and closed the door as quietly as possible. And then got rid of his jacket. He was quite surprised at himself for not already coming in his pants; he didn’t think he had that much stamina. But he was close to coming. He just undressed and lay on his bed, not even bothering for the lube at the desk drawer. He took his throbbing cock in his fist and shivered at the chill of his hand, that chill reminded him of Sherlock and he started to move his hand along the length of his member, all hard and dripping pre ejaculation. He was very close. He just imagined Sherlock. How his eyes flickered towards John, how his scent filled John’s nose. How he was standing too near the sergeant on that evening.

 John let out a almost loud moan. He didn’t care if Sherlock could hear. He could not think properly. All he could think about was Sherlock close to him, in the staircase after an adrenaline driven chase, Sherlock brushing his shoulder in the kitchen, an almost subtle touch in the waist at a crime scene. John hovered his thumb at the tip of his cock, collecting the bead of come forming at the tip, using that as lubricant, moved his waist and started to fuck his own fist. Then he lifted his left hand and hovered the index finger just around his Arsehole, he was tempted to push, but not just now. He started to imagine Sherlock’s wet breathing, Sherlock murmuring in his low voice, his pale chest peeking from his shirt with the faintest hint of hair in it. Sherlock bent over the corpse, his arse in full view. All glorious and beautiful. And he couldn’t restrain himself any more. He deliberately pushed his finger in his arsehole, just one knuckle.

And then he came.

The orgasm hit John like a wave. For seconds, he couldn’t breathe and was gasping for air. He made a choked sound. Come sprouted all over him, and he led out the loudest moan imaginable. He was almost sure that Sherlock could hear him from the kitchen. No point in thinking about that. It already has happened.

John stayed like that for minutes. Come sprouted all over his stomach. Some in his neck too. He was unable to move. His legs felt like Jelly, He lay there, looking at the dark ceiling thinking about Sherlock. How is flatmate has crept in his every carnal imagination from god knows when. John felt pathetic. His sexual frustration only grew these days from feelings not being reciprocated. He felt ecstatic in his masturbation periods. But that was a temporary solution. His body craved and ached for Sherlock, the wanting of every inch of that ethereal being draped over him. And John couldn’t see that happening anytime. Sherlock was very much capable of playing him, but not willing to play with him.

John let out a sigh and sat upon his bed. He rubbed his palm over his eyes and got out of the bed. Did his cleaning ritual, got in his pyjamas and drew the blanket over his head. He has an early shift the next day.

He was too deep in his post orgasm bliss and sleep deprivation that he missed the faintest movement of a shadow from the other side of the door and the lightest footsteps imaginable, receding.

 

 

\----------------------------------------------------

 

 

John was right, Sherlock knew everything.

Sherlock never missed the growing sexual frustration in his flatmate. It was not a subject he just could pop up on a chilly evening by the fireplace and have a heart to heart chat about that. Sherlock wasn’t good at talking about emotions. And John was a little private. Sherlock respected that.

And he could not bring the subject up for another reason, because of his growing sexual attraction towards John.

Sherlock always thought his body as a mere transport, not giving in the desires of it. He just chose to ignore everything except the case. His past encounters all have been one night stands, only for the sake of transport, just for sudden release. No emotional bonding or anything. It was a personal thing. He never liked getting emotionally attached to anyone.

But then came John, the military doctor. And brought his warm presence along with him. John made Sherlock grateful by merely existing in his world.

And days passed by, Sherlock was bewitched. When that feeling of platonic love escalated to carnal wanting, the line was blurred to him. But he knew he became more and more attracted to John physically. Happened many times, that after a rather heated adrenaline driven case they found themselves laughing and gasping for breath in the staircase. And Sherlock wanted to take John. Right then and there. Wanted to break him apart. Just take what should be just his. Just make john his. He wanted to hear John moan and writhing under him, gasping for release, reciting his name over and over. He wanted to touch John everywhere. Take those lips between his own. Those plush behinds between his hands. Oh, how ecstatic it would be to make John come by just his mere touch. He had sleepless nights just hearing John masturbating on his bed, controlling the urge to barge through the door in John’s room and fuck John like he has never been fucked.

But Sherlock was afraid to admit all these. Two reasons. One, he is bad at relationships, he has no practical experience of that before and secondly, John dated women, and although he is attracted to men in same level, which he wouldn’t admit and he is obviously very attracted to Sherlock, it was clear that he is not ready to admit his attraction. Sherlock clearly knew John wanted Sherlock. He is not a cold blooded Psychopath as everybody assumes. Or a sociopath as he himself claims.

But John has trust issues. And Sherlock wanted to gave him space. He didn’t want to corner him.

And things changed. John stopped dating for a long time, maybe preparing himself to accept his emotions. And that inevitably grew a sexual frustration. That manifested in breaking the wine glass two nights ago and the sudden rage over the cleanliness of the kitchen table. John was getting restless. So was Sherlock.

And he needed a final proof. He flirted shamelessly in presence of John. And it worked. John was clearly jealous and very aroused.

The whole cab ride was filled with John’s aroused scent. John’s feeble attempt at trying to hide his erection from Sherlock only made Sherlock achingly hard under his belstaff. He had to gather all the restrain he could to stop fucking John in the cab.

And when John went to his room without having dinner. Sherlock followed him like a cat. Standing behind the closed door. Hearing John’s attempt to make his masturbation less vocal. His own cock making a visible tent in his trousers. He grabbed himself over his pants, rubbing his cock. Shivering at his own touch. Not making an attempt to open the fly. He was afraid he would make noise and John will know. He heard John moan, hiss and come. Moaning loudly. Moaning Sherlock’s name. Sherlock knew John didn’t even notice he moaned Sherlock’s name. And all Sherlock needed was to picture John; all come covered and naked on bed. His shaft flaccid on his stomach, waves of the muscles in their full glory.

And Sherlock came, in his pants, standing behind the closed door of John’s room. Muffling his moan by pushing his fist in his mouth. Shivering uncontrollably from the ripples through his body as he stood there, his back to the wall, in his stained paints and his sweat covered face. He waited a few minutes to make his legs steady. Hearing John getting ready for bed.

And he tiptoed back in his room.

 

 

\----------------------------------------------------

 

 

John was relieved to see Sherlock nowhere in the living room in the following morning. The door to his room was closed.”Sleeping late”, john muttered under his breath. He led out a sigh of relief. It is difficult to act normal in front of your flatmate after you have a painful erection for the longest time seeing him flirting followed by an earth shattering orgasm picturing him fucking you. John shook his head and started the kettle. He made toast and tea for himself, ate silently, took his keys and went out of 221B.

The whole day was a mess. John got minimum rest. The clinic was overflowed with patients. And he barely got time to breathe. But when he got a break, he found himself thinking about Sherlock, again.

“John?” John removed his palm from his face to see Sarah standing in the doorway, “I’ve got you a sandwich. It is lunch time and you are not out of the room, so I thought I could bring you something.” Her smile was affectionate.

“I am just a bit tired.” John straightened his back, rubbing his eyes vigorously, “Thank you for bringing the food Sarah, you are too kind.” Giving her most tight lipped but genuine smile he could manage.

“Rough night, huh? On a case with Sherlock?”, Sarah asked smiling.

“You could say”, john replied in a voice sounding distant.

Sarah was turned towards the door but span halfway like she remembered something,“Hey John, you want to catch a drink with me today, at the pub? We could talk. God knows how much I need to talk with a friend. My head is jammed. And you were always a good listener.” She asked in a breath, smiling heartily.

John considered his options for a few seconds, Sarah was his ex, but that doesn’t complicate things or anything. She was still a good friend and as she asked, it will be polite to do so. And god only knows how much he wants to avoid Sherlock and a drink at the pub sounds like a perfect opportunity to lengthen his stay outside Baker Street.

“Yeah sure Sarah, I don’t see why not. A drink sounds like a good Idea. ‘, John replied in A fake enthusiasm. “After the shift then.”

“After the shift. “Sarah gave John a nod and was out through the Door.

 

 

The drink with Sarah was quite refreshing, and it diverted John’s mind from Sherlock for a while. Sarah was a good friend and John wondered why didn’t he do this more often. He needed these sometimes. Just mindless chatting and laugh accompanied by a drink.

He walked from the pub, deep in thoughts. Not particularly thinking. Just swimming in different thoughts. As soon as he spotted Speedy’s in his periphery, his chest tightened. Home. And facing Sherlock, Which, for some reason was uneasy at this moment.

He stepped into the flat to find it softly illuminated, the fire in the fireplace was crackling and it was comfortably warm.

Sherlock was sitting on the sofa looking at the fire intently. And as soon as John stepped in the threshold, his head moved a little towards the door, John saw the fire from the fireplace reflecting in his eyes. John gulped. It almost looked like Sherlock’s eyes were burning.

“You are late.” Sherlock hissed.

John was glued to his spot. He was starting to shed his jacket but he just stopped abruptly. Sherlock looked and sounded scary. “I was out with Sarah.” He replied, timidly. Why is he scared of Sherlock knowing he was out with Sarah?

“Sarah?” Sherlock asked in a cold voice and moved his head to face John. And though there was not possible to have any reflection from the fire at this angle, John could swear he saw Sherlock’s eyes, still burning.

“Yes for a drink at the pub.” He replied with a hint of irritation.” What’s the matter Sherlock? Did I forget something? What’s with th....”

Before he could finish his sentence, all happened at once, Sherlock sprang from the sofa, there was a rustle of Sherlock’s dressing gown behind him and John almost lost balance. But a strong hand grabbed him, Sherlock’s hand. And before he could think about what’s happening, John was pinned to the wall beside the sofa, with Sherlock’s hands pinning john’s hands with a grip that was almost bruising.

“Sherlock what the hell! What is this! What are you..?” John stopped rambling as soon as he saw Sherlock’s eyes, glaring at him. He was breathing at a little accelerated rate and though John is not good at deducing, he could clearly see that Sherlock’s pupils were blown.

_Is Sherlock aroused?!_

John felt blood rushing in him, directed at his crotch. He couldn’t believe his eyes that they were standing like that. In the living room. He could feel Sherlock’s wet breath on his face, and getting almost lost at the sensation of that, when a sudden jerk tore his web of lost thoughts and brought him back to reality. Where Sherlock was pinning him to the wall, and looking from the lashes with liquid burning eyes.

“You two going out again then? You and Sarah? Sherlock asked in a raspy voice. “What? NO.!’ It was just a drink Sherl….”Sherlock cut him mid-sentence, voice still raspy, how can I be sure that you two didn’t fuck, let me make sure.”And before John could blink his eyes, Sherlock’s nose was buried in his neck, smelling him intently.

John felt goose bumps all around his body and his breath hitched. He felt Sherlock’s soft curls rustled at this neck. He felt Sherlock smile in his neck, and then lift his head to bring his mouth at John’s ear.

“I am waiting for you the whole afternoon, and now is the time you decide to be back home? Should you be forgiven?” Sherlock said in a dark voice which almost sounded like purring. John closed his eyes, his nerve endings running like haywire. He opened his mouth to say something. But all he could manage was a breath. And he felt Sherlock shiver at that.

“Answer me John Watson!” Sherlock’s raised voice reminded John of his military days, the commands. And he opened his eyes to find Sherlock’s eyes fixated at him. Pupils fully blown, and just a thin line of the sea blue iris around them.

Sherlock came closer. His plump lips just mere centimetres away from John’s dry ones. Sherlock’s lips were red. The blood vessels waking at the arousal. And Sherlock opened his mouth.

“I said, answer me John. Do you deserve forgiveness for being late?”

John’s lips trembled. He started to open his mouth to say something. But before he could, Sherlock’s face tilted a little and in the next second, soft warm lips were crashing against John’s mouth.

John lost all sensations for a few seconds. Or minutes. He wasn’t sure. He came back to his senses when Sherlock took his lower lip between his and put a little pressure. Tugging them with his teeth. John let out a whimper. Sherlock released the pressure and crashed at John’s mouth again. This time darting his tongue out a little.

In a reflex, John opened his mouth, and there was Sherlock’s tongue. Hungry and penetrating. Sherlock was moaning lightly. John made a muffled sound in his throat and Sherlock pressed himself on John, knees parting John's legs. And John realized Sherlock has a massive erection.

John's legs went slack at the sensation of Sherlock's throbbing cock pressed in his thigh. He nearly lost his consciousness.

But then Sherlock let go off John's mouth and that made John look up. All he could see was Sherlock's eyes glistening and his moistened crimson cupid bow lips.

"Sherlock, this... “John couldn’t find the words. He felt like he needed to say something.

A crooked smile appeared on Sherlock's face, “Don’t pretend that you don’t want this John. I am not pretending. Moreover, I am done pretending.”

“Sherlock?” John’s croaked voice made Sherlock’s name a question as well as a doubt. “Shouldn’t we talk about this?” he said in a single breath.

“We will have plenty of time to talk about things after this. But for this moment, I am giving in to the transport.” said Sherlock. And tilted his head a little more.

John felt the pressure increase on his hands, almost bruising them. Then he felt Sherlock’s hot breath in his neck and moments later Sherlock was trailing his tongue along John’s neck and his exposed jaw. The wet sensation followed by Sherlock’s breath made John almost black out. He felt Sherlock stop licking and in the next second felt a sweet pain on the exposed neck just over his shirt collar.

Sherlock was biting Him.

John let out a loud moan. The bite was the most beautiful sensation John had ever experienced. Just the right amount of pain and pleasure. And John lost all sensations of his legs. If Sherlock wasn’t holding him, he was sure he would fall to the ground.

John managed to form a sentence this time, “Not here Sherlock.” He said, panting rapidly.

Sherlock took another long lick at John’s neck and hummed “Yes. Absolutely not”

“Your room?” John said, licking his lips.

“No John Watson, you made me wait. And so I am not gonna fuck you in my bedroom. The bed is too good. You don’t deserve good. You need rough.”

Jon’s eyes widened.

“I have a better place in mind.”

Before John could reply anything, Sherlock plunged at his mouth again. And started to drag John at over the carpet. John almost stumbled. And suddenly he felt the wood floor and sensation of something hard poking at his waist. He broke th kiss abruptly to to see what was poking him.

It was the kitchen table. Cleaned. Not a single bottle of chemical or a shred of glass in sight. John looked at Sherlock. His eyebrows rising in an unsaid question.

“You said this is not a _fucking_ experiment table, what about just fucking?”Sherlock asked slyly.

A jolt of excitement ran through John’s spine. Their first time, and they are going to fuck on the table? John had a thing for uncomfortable surfaces. Something he never told anyone. Did Sherlock deduce that?

His senses came back to him at the sensation of his clothes being tugged. He shifted his vision to see Sherlock rapidly undressing him.  “Lift your hand.” Sherlock ordered and he pulled John’s jumper over his head. Sherlock was breathing heavy and rapidly. And John was turned on beyond measurements. Then Sherlock started on the buttons of John’s shirt and exposed his chest in a few seconds. And then stopped.

John saw Sherlock looking at John’s chest with an expression of amazement. Then Sherlock looked at John from his lashes, bowed a little and placed a sloppy kiss on John’s breastbone. Followed by faintly dragging his teeth on the surface. One hand over the fly of John’s trousers. Sherlock lift his head and continued the work of undressing John. And within seconds, John was standing naked in the kitchen. His clothes scattered around. The edges of the wooden table poking at his bare arse. His cock visible in full glory and glistening at the tip with pre-cum.

Sherlock took a few steps back and looked at John intently. He still had his shirt and trousers on. The first few buttons of the shirt was open. His porcelain skin glistening with and flushed red due to the arousal. He was chewing on his lips. And his hardened cock making a very visible presence in his trousers.

“Turn over John, place your palms on the table.”

John hesitated for a few seconds.

“Do it!” Sherlock almost snapped.

John turned around and did as Sherlock said. Bending a little so that his cock doesn’t collide with wood.

He felt Sherlock shift closer. The heat from Sherlock’s’ body radiating and he could feel it in his bare skin. He felt Sherlock’s erection brushing against his arse for a few seconds and then gone. He kept his ear open and anticipated for any sound. A fly opening or a bottle cap popping or something.

Instead he heard a soft thud and rustle of fabrics. And before he could even think of what’s happening, he felt Sherlock’s fingers, parting his arse cheeks followed by Sherlock’s warm breath.

And then Sherlock’s tongue took a swipe at his hole.

John wanted to clutch on something. And the wooden table couldn’t give him that. His legs started to shake slightly. He bent over the table more for support. And felt Sherlock’s hand in his waist, making him steady.

Then Sherlock took another swipe. Then another and then darted his tongue in John’s hole, teasing a little.

John’s whole body started to shudder. “Fuck!” he cursed. This was borderline surreal. Sherlock giving John a rim job on the kitchen table. That thought gave John’s already hardened prick an ache. He moaned loudly with each of the movements of Sherlock’s tongue.

Sherlock continued to move his tongue. Teasing around John’s hole and deliberately entering his tongue in once in a few seconds. Moaning the whole time. His face was buried in John’s arse. He was rubbing his nose and licking at the hole at the same time

John was doing everything to contain his loud moaning. He bit his lip. But that wasn’t helping. He started to put more pressure on the table to keep himself steady, He heard a faint creak each time he pressed harder on it. His hole was wet with Sherlock’s saliva, who was eating his arse rather hungrily. John cock was almost hurting. He thought me may come like this.

Sherlock made a noise in his throat took a long swipe over the crease of John’s arse and then John felt Sherlock’s hand and mouth disappear from his skin.

And then John heard a fly open. He moved whole body to see Sherlock undressing. He already removed his Shirt, his pale chest glistening in the kitchen light, He already let go his trousers and was busy removing his skin hugging boxers.

John realized he is seeing Sherlock’ naked for the first time. And his mouth opened a little, almost drooling when he saw Sherlock’s magnificent cock. Pale and hard. A shade of crimson at the head. Bent upwards, very very aroused. John felt his throat become dry.

Sherlock turned right to open a kitchen drawer, and John noticed his arse, and wondered at the sight. Despite Sherlock’s bony structure, his arse was exquisite. All plump and a little reddened. Then he looked at Sherlock’s hand to see a bottle of lube and sachets of condoms.

The John realized.“You planned this whole thing!” You planned to have sex here whatever the situation.” You bossy git!” John said in a tone of Surprise and amusement mixed together.

“Does that make it any less exciting John?” Sherlock said smiling, keeping the things on the table and pressing his whole body against John. Their whole body was touching. Their cocks pressed together and John let out another moan at the sensation. Sherlock leaned in. And pressed his lips against John’s. Claiming a wet kiss and pressing John’s lower lip by his teat. Then his hands darted aound John’s whole body and stopped at John’s butt cheeks, cupping them hardly by his palm. John felt Sherlock trying to lift his body and he cooperated. And then John was sitting on the table. Sherlock pressed his body against john a little more, and John was almost parallel with the table . The wood made a squeaking sound as if protesting at the weight of a human.

“It’s squeaking Sherlock, the table.” John lifted himself a little on his elbows to see Sherlock spreading dollop of lube over his left palm. “Don’t think about it.” Sherlock replied. And then dipped the fingers of his right hand in the lube, smearing it all over.

John took a big gulp and thought about how many years it has been since he did this with a man. That felt like forever. His thought dissociated as he felt Sherlock’s lube covered cool finger near his entrance. He shivered at the chill.

“It will warm, just try to relax.” Sherlock said in a liquid voice and entered one finger at John’s hole.

The sensation was odd but not unpleasant, John felt himself ease at the touch. Sherlock became deliberate and entered another knuckle. Then John felt Sherlock’s finger bent a little and hit the sweet spot.

“Oh fuck!!” , John shouted as Sherlock’s finger brushed against his prostrate. . “More!” He demanded, panting and sweating.

And Sherlock pushed another finger inside. And scissored them to make John more relaxed and ready. John was almost at the verge of coming. The Sherlock added another finger. John whimpered. He can’t come like this. He needs Sherlock inside.

“Stop!” he darted out and felt Sherlock retrieves his fingers. He propped himself on his elbows and looked at Sherlock with burning desire in his eyes. “Inside me Sherlock, I want you inside me.”

Sherlock made grunting noise in his throat. And then reached for the condom. John saw him tearing the foil in his teeth and putting the condom on. Sherlock reached for more lube and smeared it along his own length.

John licked at his dry lip a little as Sherlock positioned himself between John’s legs. His breathing was hitched and audible. Sherlock bent over to place a small kiss on John’s lips and then trailed his tongue and nibbled at john’s ear. “Lie down.” he ordered in a deep voice.

John did as said. And felt Sherlock’s left hand on his thigh, positioning himself. And then felt the tip of Sherlock’s cock, just touching the hole. H took a deep breath and then Sherlock was already half-in.

The sensation was overwhelming. John felt full, but not particularly uncomfortable. And then Sherlock didn’t even wait or his approval and pushed the rest of his length deliberately in.

John thumped his fist on the table, wrapping both of his legs around Sherlock. He almost stopped breathing for a moment. Sherlock waited a few seconds and started to move. John was gasping for air and sweating.

Sherlock lowered his body, to come parallel with John. Thrusting at a slow rate.

“Did you think about my cock when you were wanking last night?” Sherlock asked, his voice was all shaky and breathy. Smiling when John took a sharp breath at the realization. “Yes I was standing behind the door hearing you John. Couldn’t help. You were so vocal and I liked how you came saying my name.”

John felt like he should have been angry at the confession. But god help, he was more aroused. He let out a breathy moan and realized Sherlock was thrusting deeper.

John shuddered. And felt the table move a little. But he couldn’t think about it. His concentration was on the gorgeous man in front of him trying to fuck his brains out. He felt Sherlock put his hands on the table and pick up his pace.

The table started to protest a little loudly at the frantic movement. John was whimpering helplessly on the table. Almost close to orgasm. “Sherlock!” he was repeating his name over and over like verse.

Sherlock started to thrust faster. And between their concerted moaning, John heard a hinge of the table creak loudly. Before he could think of anything, he saw stars, and came like a tsunami; crying Sherlock’s name and coming all over himself. Sherlock continued his thrusts and John felt the table tilt a little on his left side. He tried to inform Sherlock about the situation. But post orgasm bliss chocked his voice and Sherlock was too lost in achieving his orgasm to notice the look of horror in John’s face.

Sherlock led out a deliberate cry and shuddered as he came. And at the exact moment, the table tilted dangerously. John gasped and tried to sit but the table leg just gave it up and made a loud cracking noise and in the next moment John was sliding down the table taking Sherlock with him.

They rolled on the floor, still joined and both started to laugh loudly as the initial shock passed. They were lucky to not hit their heads on anything. The table was standing there, one leg broken. Looked like it was bowing as if congratulate them on their destructive session of coitus.

“You broke the table, Sherlock!” John managed between his uncontrollable giggle.

“No we broke the table! By having sex. It wasn’t our fault that the table couldn’t take it. It was quite unstable from the beginning I think.” Sherlock protested.

 “Our first time, and we broke the damn table!”

“I am sorry.” Sherlock murmured in a serious face. I assure you I am going to check the strength of each furniture from next time. Pardon me for being sloppy for the first time. Not going to happen again.” And broke in laughter again.

Then he stopped abruptly, looked at John with a full gaze, and said in his deep voice, “And John... I _do_ care.” And placed a sweet chaste kiss on John’s lips.

John has never felt this much happy in his whole life.

 

 

\----------------------------------------------------

 

 

Outside the busy London crowd hummed. Speedy’s café was brimming with people.

And inside her flat, Mrs. Hudson was sipping at her tea, happily. She looked for a brief second at the ceiling, a satisfying smile in her face, her eyes twinkling with joy. And sipped the tea again.

 

 

 

 


	2. The morning after

John was still sleeping.

And Sherlock has been awake for an hour.

Sherlock couldn’t remember clearly how they ended up on his bed after their destructive table breaking session of coitus. His cheeks flushed remembering the incident. He may have been a little too rough for their first time. And he should have been made sure last night that John was okay. He was so exhausted .And now; he didn’t want to wake up John to check him. John needed rest.

He has been watching John for an hour. Watching John sleep. How his lips tremble a little once every few minutes. How his breathing pattern changes once in a while. How the dimple in his chin deepens with every breath he takes. John slept like an angel. Peaceful and calm. Sherlock realized what he was missing all those years. He could have had this long ago. All these years between seemed like a waste. But that didn’t matter now. John was in his bed. With him. And they made love last night.

John’s golden eyelashes fluttered a little. His breathing was a little faster. And Sherlock knew John was awake. He didn’t say anything. He continued looking with a warm smile on his face.

And John was smiling too. “Stop looking at me!”John protested softly. His voice, still sleepy.

“Why on earth would I do that?” Sherlock replied, grinning. “You are a sight for the sore eyes John Watson. All sleepy and handsome and naked, on my bed.” He chuckled.

Looked like John suddenly regained senses about his naked state and his eyes went wide and he looked around them. They were sharing a duvet. Sherlock’s lanky legs were almost out of it.

John pursed his lips and let out a small breathe and chuckled, and then crinkled his nose as in pain.

Sherlock was alarmed. “Oh god, John, is everything ok?” And before John could answer he was already sitting up, getting closer to John.

“It’s ok Sherlock.” John started to protest. But Sherlock sat beside him and removed the duvet from John’s body.

John was bruised a little from where the table had hit him. There were light purple bruises forming in his backside. Also some reddened scratches, courtesy of Sherlock. _Nothing serious_. Sherlock thought to himself. But still needs to be taken care of as soon as possible..

“Are you okay? _There_?” Sherlock was stuttering. _Why was he stuttering?_

He heard a light chuckle come from John’s direction. John was smiling fondly. “Oh my, look at you Sherlock Holmes! Look at you all stuttering and shy. You were not shy at all last night. You could make whole Thames filthy with that much dirty talk… And yes I _am_ okay.”

Sherlock’s face felt warm. He was definitely blushing like a schoolgirl. But he was not going to stand down that easily. He needed to make John blush too.

“And do I have to mention your screams last night?” Sherlock tried to repress from laughing and kept up a serious face. “You gave poor Hudders a heart attack I think.”

“No!” John’s eyes went wide in genuine horror. “Mrs. Hudson can’t hear that. Did she hear that? Oh my God!”

Sherlock’s grin went wide. “I actually wasn’t sure that she did. But as Now I can hear her footsteps approaching our living room. I am one hundred percent sure she did.”

John opened his mouth to say something. But before words could come out. There was a cheerful voice coming from their leaving room.

“Woo-hoo, boys! Here is your tea. I made some cake too!” Mrs. Hudson sounded like she couldn’t contain her happiness. And made no question about the broken kitchen table, like it wasn’t even there.” I am leaving them on the leaving room table.” She was out by the door. And there was her voice again “I am so happy for you boys!” She was bursting with joy.

John’s face was buried in the pillow. Practically mortified. And Sherlock was gasping for breath from laughter.

“I can’t believe that happened!” John’s muffled voice came from where his face was buried in the pillow. “This is so humiliating.”

“Of course not! Nothing to be ashamed of.” Sherlock huffed. “We being together. Nothing to be ashamed of. Ever.” And he reduced the distance between John’s and his face. One hand protectively but softly flung around John as if he was made of glass.

John turned his head to face Sherlock.

Sherlock hesitated for a moment. And then whispered.  “Can I kiss you?”

John gulped and gave a small nod, “Yes, love.”

And then their lips touched.

The whole universe stopped for a moment when the new lovers shared their first morning kiss.

They didn’t even mind the sour morning breath. They couldn’t care less. The whole world just stood still. Only their shared nest at 221B was radiating with love and happiness. The unsaid promises of togetherness for eternity.

And only thing that mattered was them.

Nothing else mattered.

Nothing else in the whole wide world.

 

 

 

 

_THE END_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr @love-in-mind-palace

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to leave comments if you like. Follow me in tumblr @love-in-mind-palace (self- advertising. Yes I am shameless). And again, I appreciate your feedback.


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